


fragile like glass (you can't breathe without me)

by lonelier_version_of_you



Category: Holby City
Genre: (not explicitly stated but i wrote this with that in mind), (they're in that weird middle ground between the two in this), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BPD John Gaskell, Caretaking, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I tagged her anyway, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Alternating, Pre-Relationship, Psychotic John Gaskell, Roxanna is only in one chapter sorry Rox fans, Sickfic, also henrik is autistic in this as always, but it's neither explicitly stated nor particularly relevant, but she does play an important role in setting up the ending so, i'm back on my bs everybody, john is slightly delirious from fever and ends up saying more than he should oops, this was supposed to be a oneshot idk what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-27 12:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20046292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelier_version_of_you/pseuds/lonelier_version_of_you
Summary: John hasn't been at work, nor has he replied to any calls or texts. Henrik goes to check on him and ends up getting more than he bargained for.-(slightly AU, set in mid-2018 or later.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a prompt by dragonsophie on Tumblr, so credit to them for that. I just took it and spinned it into some lovely little angst. ;)
> 
> That's right, everyone, I'm back to the angsty hurt/comfort fics from Henrik's POV now. What, did you think the happiness from last fic was going to last? I'm like a soap writer: I can't let characters be happy for too long.
> 
> This is also based off the common fandom headcanon that John has struggled with psychosis since long before we actually see it in canon. I was curious about how Henrik might react to finding that out, so. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> If 'if my echoes can reach your ears' was the companion piece to 'now it's too late to go', this is a companion piece to 'given up all i can'. A Spiritual Successor, TVTropes might call it. It's not really connected, but it has the same themes and vibe. Or at least I think so. Your mileage, however, may vary.
> 
> The only real Facts™ of the AU this fic is set in are: 1. John didn't kill anyone. 2. Henrik and John are in a semi-relationship of sorts, neither being quite sure where they stand. They know they're closer than friends, but haven't yet come 'round to saying they're together. Also they've got keys to each other's houses so that's a thing.
> 
> I honestly don't know when this is set. Could be a year ago. Could be last winter. Could be now. It's set whenever you want it to be set, since John never killing anyone would mean the trail of events that lead to his suicide didn't happen.
> 
> Any tense switches were entirely deliberate. They may go against typical writing convention. I can't say I care enough to put effort into remedying that, lol.
> 
> Title from Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko. I know, I know, I used one of her songs as a title for the last fic too. I've been listening to her a lot lately. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

John hasn’t replied to Henrik’s calls or texts in three days.

-

The first day, John was meant to be at work, but didn’t show up. Henrik assumed he’d called in sick or requested the day off, but apparently that wasn’t the case either, and no one was entirely certain what was going on.

So Henrik sent him a text that evening:

_I noticed you weren’t at work today, and you didn’t call in sick or anything. I hope everything is alright._

He contemplated whether to say anything else, unsure of whether John would appreciate the message or if it would make him feel ill at ease. He found himself typing it out a few minutes later anyway, when John hadn’t yet responded:

_If you need to talk, you know I’m here._

-

The second day, John still hadn’t replied to the texts. He wasn’t at work, either. No one had heard from him, at least not any of the people Henrik asked.

Henrik had to admit he was starting to feel concerned that something was wrong. Despite knowing how unlikely it was that anything serious had happened, he found himself spiralling into worry, the thought that John was hurt or worse refusing to stop tugging at the back of his mind.

He left a voicemail that afternoon.

_My sincerest apologies if I’m bothering you, John, but it’s been two days since anyone last heard from you. There’s been some talk of getting a locum in if you keep being absent: a locum who would undoubtedly have not even half your talent. We miss you – **I** miss you. Come back soon._

-

It’s the evening of day three without contact from John, and after having tried to phone him that morning and afternoon without any response, Henrik makes the decision to go and check on him in person.

He feels like a bit of an idiot for not doing this sooner, as it’s not as if he doesn’t have keys to John’s house now. But before, he’d wanted to give John space, scared of coming across as intrusive rather than as simply a concerned friend. (Or partner, or whatever it is they are now. Henrik’s not sure. He doesn’t think John knows, either.)

Now, however, it’s just been too long with no answers at all, and Henrik supposes he has little choice other than more drastic action.

So rather than go home after work, he drives to John’s house, and lets himself in to an empty kitchen.

It feels unsettling, the combination of the quietness with the lived-in appearance of the room – there are plates and bowls left in the sink, empty packets of all sorts of food are strewn about on the counters, but the house is totally silent, and there’s no sign of activity from John.

Henrik hopes this isn’t another one of John’s downswings, where he pushes himself too hard for too long and subsequently crashes and burns for a rather long while. It’s starting to seem like it though, like a return to certain times in the past where John was clinging on to Henrik for dear life, metaphorically (and sometimes literally) speaking – where Henrik would have to remind him to eat, keep track of how much sleep he was getting, and, if the worst came to the worst, talk him out of his darker thoughts.

Henrik barely had the strength to hold himself together back then, nevermind to keep John going. (He never knew how John managed it when he had to do the same for Henrik.) He thinks that’s only _more_ true now. The years have worn him down and he’s not sure he can be what John needs, not anymore.

But if things have gotten bad again, then Henrik knows he needs to _try_. To try to be there for his friend, even though he doesn’t know that he actually can.

So he takes a deep breath and walks through to the living room.

He first notices, in the dimly lit room, that there’s a lump of _something_ on the sofa, then realises that it’s John, curled up into the foetal position. His eyes are closed as if he’s sleeping, but his breathing is too uneven and shaky for that. There’s a bottle of Tylenol on the coffee table near the sofa, and a discarded blanket that’s half on the sofa and half on the floor.

So John’s come down with something. That would explain his absence from work, though John must be in rather bad shape to have not turned up at all, rather than showing up and silently struggling through the day like he has in the past when he gets sick…

unless he was doing that before his disappearance, and Henrik didn’t even notice.

Henrik sighs quietly. “Oh, John, what are we going to do with you?” he murmurs, not intending his words to be heard.

John’s eyes snap open right afterwards, though, indicating that he did in fact hear Henrik, and he glances up at him before groaning softly and closing his eyes again.

“John?” Henrik repeats, louder this time.

“Should‘ve known this would happen,” John mutters, “with the fever too…”

“What are you talking about?” Henrik questions, moving closer.

“You _know_. Don’t – not right now, please…” John coughs. “Of _course_ I’d see you.”

_John doesn’t think I’m actually here,_ Henrik realises, _he thinks he’s hallucinating from the fever._

It’s the plea of ‘not right now’ that really worries Henrik. Is John’s fever so bad he’s already been hallucinating?

Then things start snapping together in his mind – things John has sworn had happened when they didn’t; never anything big enough for Henrik to be majorly concerned, but snippets of conversation John tried to reference, or the occasional laugh and ‘remember when you wore that awful tie?’ followed by a description of a tie Henrik didn’t own, had _never_ owned—

_Fuck_. John has been hallucinating since long before the fever. And he’s never told anyone, not even Henrik, his closest friend and confidante. And he’s certainly never seen anyone about it. He’s been suffering in silence all these years and Henrik has let it go unnoticed.

Henrik thinks that, if he weren’t a medical professional who knew it was impossible, he might actually believe his heart was breaking right now.

He doesn’t even know where to go from here. John isn’t going to talk about this when he’s physically better, there’s no chance – but he clearly needs some sort of intervention.

Yet all Henrik can do at the moment is try to comfort him in the here and now, so that’s what he does. “John, listen to me. You aren’t just seeing things, okay? I’m really here, I promise.”

“You are?” John asks. His voice is quiet and soft and everything John’s voice isn’t supposed to be. He sounds so _broken_. It almost scares Henrik.

“I am,” Henrik affirms. He outstretches an arm, but stops just short of actually touching his friend. “Can I touch you? To prove it.”

“Please,” John whispers.

Henrik reaches out and puts an arm on John’s shoulder. John relaxes a little bit, and his eyes light up in wonder at the realisation that Henrik really is there. In fact, he looks amazed by it. It would be a lovely look to see on John’s face… were it not in this situation.

“Have you eaten recently?” Henrik asks after a few minutes in silence, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“Haven’t felt up to it.”

“Can I make you something? Soup, maybe? That’s what people normally like to eat when they’re sick, isn’t it…” Henrik trails off, realising that he’s just starting to ramble at this point.

“Okay,” John nods.

“Alright then. I’ll be back soon.”

-

While he waits for the soup to finish heating up, Henrik takes a few moments to contemplate what to do now.

John needs help, that much is clear. But Henrik doesn’t know _how_ to help him. Not when he wouldn’t accept it.

Not that Henrik could judge him. He’d spent years struggling in secret himself, with the occasional period of time where John would help him out if things got really bad.

It’s an agreement they’ve had for many years, though an unspoken one: if one of them was in a dark place, the other would take care of them however they needed until they felt better. A fairly substantial amount of their relationship over the years has been built on it.

But Henrik had never tried to hide things from John, not when he was at his worst anyway. The rest of the time, yes, but at his lowest, Henrik was an open book, too focused on survival (or, occasionally, achieving the lack thereof), and on pretending to be fine around people other than John, people who wouldn’t _understand_, to care about much else. There were things they didn’t directly discuss, but they weren’t so much hidden as they were open secrets.

While John has been hiding this for… Henrik remembers things that, in hindsight, point to this, going back to the early days of their friendship. So, decades. John has been hiding this for _decades_. Even when he was at his lowest points, even when he was relying on Henrik to keep him functioning. It feels a bit like an indication that John doesn’t truly trust Henrik at all, keeping this hidden even from him.

(Henrik knows by now that it’s not personal, that John distrusts _everyone_, that he hates showing any form of vulnerability just as much as Henrik himself does. Yet it still feels hurtful that John wouldn’t trust him with something like this.)

And even though John had tried to hide it, there were still signs all along. How could Henrik have been so blind?

Henrik remembers how Roxanna had finally managed to push him into seeking professional help by threatening his job. He supposes he could do similarly for John, but he doesn’t think he’s brave enough to actually go through with getting John fired if he declines (and declining is an understatement for how he would likely react to the idea). He couldn’t do that, couldn’t take The Work away from John, not when it’s so important to him.

But if there’s anything that has a chance of working…

He supposes he shouldn’t even be thinking about this right now. He doesn’t even know how to raise the subject with John, and what use is planning later steps if he has no clue where to start?

-

Henrik returns to the living room a few minutes later, carrying a bowl of soup.

“Here you go,” he says. He puts the bowl down on the coffee table, before slipping back into the kitchen to get John a glass of water and putting that down too.

“Thank you,” John says weakly, slowly pulling himself upright and then picking the bowl up from its spot on the table.

Henrik takes a seat on the sofa. He spends the next ten minutes or so preparing himself for what he’s about to say, then finally, when John’s done eating, he speaks. “John, you said— you implied earlier that you had hallucinated before.” He feels guilty for taking advantage of John’s fragile state and clouded thoughts like this, but he doesn’t know how else he’s going to have a chance of getting any further information. “Have you?”

John nods.

“How long?”

“I, uhm… ‘bout as far back as I can remember. Not when I was a kid, but after… ‘t’s okay though, Henrik, I’m used to it.”

Henrik tries to disregard the ache those last eight words make him feel. “Have you ever seen a professional about it?”

“No.”

“Told anyone? At all?”

“You’re the first, Henrik,” John says. “You always are.”

Before Henrik can ask what that means, John has busied himself with shifting as far to the edge of the sofa as possible.

“John, what are you doing?”

“You shouldn’t be too close to me. I’ll – I’ll make you sick too.”

Henrik sighs. Of course John is prioritising Henrik more than himself, even when he’s ill. “That doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine. Actually, just – come here.” He places a hand on John’s arm, and when there’s no rejection, pulls him closer and holds him.

John snuggles closer into Henrik’s grasp, apparently grateful for the attempt at comfort.

Henrik finds he can’t bring himself to loosen his grip. He wishes he could do more than this for John; though he’ll be over this physical illness in a few days, his mind is a whole other story, and Henrik has no idea what to do about that. But for the moment, when they’re huddled together on the sofa like this, he can almost pretend there’s nothing that he truly needs to be worried about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik and John talk about the events of the previous day. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so apparently this is a multichapter now. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I'm not even sure I like this chapter but eh, fuck it.
> 
> also - and this is only mentioned like once and isn't relevant, but it's still worth establishing in the notes - Abigail is still CEO here because fuck the whole idea of Henrik taking the role again tbh. also because it may or may not be 2018 here. I still cba to establish a date.
> 
> this is apparently set in the same universe as 'given up all i can', or rather... that fic happened in this one, but this one didn't necessarily happen in that one, if you get what I'm saying. I wasn't sure it was but then a certain line of dialogue just kinda wrote itself (those who have read the other fic will know the line I mean when they get to it). if you haven't read that fic, don't worry about doing so, it's not Super Important or anything, you can glean the basic idea of what happened from the line referencing it.
> 
> there's gonna be another chapter coming up after this. maybe even a fourth. idk. for now, prepare yourselves for Angst™

John awakens that morning with a stuffy nose and somewhat sweaty, but capable of fully coherent thought for the first time in days. He feels relief for a moment, finally free from the cloudy state of mind he’s been in since he was taken ill.

And then memories from the last few days start coming back to him. Missed calls and texts he couldn’t bring himself to answer, not wanting Henrik to see him in this fragile state. Henrik turning up eventually anyway, being so kind and so gentle in ways John has never deserved, bringing him soup, touching him and cuddling with him on the sofa even though it was likely to result in him catching John’s sickness.

Why doesn’t Henrik seem to know or care that John’s only going to end up hurting him? It might start with small things like catching a cold, but it’s going to escalate, John knows. His fucked-up-ness is only going to feed on Henrik’s issues and make him worse. John couldn’t ever do that to Henrik, beautiful, pure, innocent Henrik. He couldn’t even care for him afterwards, wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do it, not if his friend’s illness were to be his own fault. He thinks that’s probably selfish of him, that, if he were to ruin Henrik – or _when_ he ruins Henrik, if they keep going like this – he ought to be tasked with looking after him. It just… wouldn’t be fair on Henrik.

It’s never been fair for either of them, either way around. John would do anything for Henrik, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to. That Henrik’s still around and kicking after every time John’s had to take care of him is a bigger miracle than anything John has achieved professionally. And John doesn’t deserve to be looked after by Henrik, either: he’s tried to push him away from it, but that only made Henrik change tactics to secrecy, finding subtler and more careful ways to trick John into telling him things so he could keep track of how he was, or even resorting to force when needed – there’s been more than one occasion where John has heard the sentence “you’re not leaving this room until you eat something”.

And then John remembers something else from yesterday.

He’d mistaken Henrik for a hallucination. He’d even shared further information when Henrik asked.

Henrik _knows_.

God, this was exactly why John tried to avoid Henrik. In his feverish state, he’d forgotten his friend had keys to his house now. He really thought this would work, that he wouldn’t have to be seen at his most vulnerable, wouldn’t have to deliriously let anything slip to anyone—

Henrik is going to leave after all this, isn’t he? Now he knows John’s not just ill like he is, but _crazy_. And no-one wants to be with someone who’s never quite sure the conversations they’re having are real.

Maybe Henrik will even try to tell Ms. Tate that John is unfit for work. John’s not sure if that’s true, but he couldn’t handle other people thinking it is. Whether he’s fit for it or not, the work is all he has. Well, the work, and Henrik.

And he knows he’s going to lose the latter, at least.

John has to do something. Maybe there’s a chance he can still salvage their relationship.

-

Henrik barely slept last night. John had fallen asleep after they’d been cuddling on the sofa for a while, and Henrik had carried him to bed (and subsequently decided to stay the night, so he could still be there for John the next day, as he was off work that day anyway) but he hadn’t been lucky enough to experience that same kind of sleepiness himself.

(Not that it’s common for John, either. In fact, John is more of an insomniac than Henrik himself. Or at least it used to be that way – and since their latest reunion, it doesn’t seem that has changed.)

He had been awake for most of the night; finally falling asleep at 3 A.M. Trying to fit on John’s sofa hadn’t helped, either – he hates his height, sometimes, it makes this sort of thing so awkward. Primarily, though, it had been worry keeping him awake.

He was worried for John’s physical state, and checked in on him every now and then throughout the night. John had indeed woken up a few times – albeit never for longer than fifteen minutes or so, and while he was still feverish, he didn’t seem to get any worse. _Small mercies_, Henrik had thought.

But what really kept him awake had been worry for John’s mental health. He spent ages pacing restlessly that night, trying to figure out a plan to help John. He hadn’t been able to get anywhere with it, and had fallen asleep just as clueless as he was when he first came over and realised what John had been hiding went far beyond a silly cold.

When Henrik woke at 6:30 A.M, he was fairly certain the tiredness he still felt was from more than just lacking sleep.

It’s now twenty-five minutes later, and as John was still asleep when he last checked, Henrik’s managed to drag himself in and out of the shower, and is currently trying to make a start on breakfast for himself and John, figuring the other man won’t be sleeping for much longer.

As he puts some bread in the toaster, he thinks about how he needs to confront John about what happened yesterday. He can’t let it go unrecognised, not now. Thirty years of silence on John’s part was more than enough.

“God, Henrik, you scared me!”

Henrik turns to see John, still dressed in the same pyjamas he’s probably been wearing for the last few days.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“Oh, yes, sorry. I thought I should stay the night, in case things got worse.”

“Shouldn’t you be—?”

“I’m not on shift today.”

“Oh.”

“I also called Ms. Tate and told her you hadn’t been well. She was very understanding.”

“You didn’t have to-” John coughs, “you didn’t have to do that, Henrik.”

“I did. I wasn’t sure when you’d feel up to it, and she needed to know.”

“I should probably be getting back to work soon anyway, seeing as I can now think coherently again.”

“No, you shouldn’t, John. Give it a day or two, at least.” Henrik can almost physically feel the tension in the room. He knows now that John is all too aware of what happened last night, and is clearly not happy with it.

“When’s that breakfast going to be done then?” John deflects.

“About ten minutes.”

They wait there in silence for the remainder of those ten minutes, and eat their breakfast in just as much silence.

-

John supposes there are worse things to do damage control on than this. He can point out that he was delirious and that will hopefully be the end of it.

So later that morning, before Henrik can address the elephant in the room, John gives his explanation. “By the way, Henrik, about last night… it didn’t mean anything. I had no idea what I was saying.”

“I don’t think you were _that_ out of it,” Henrik replies. “You were a bit confused, yes, but you obviously did know what you were talking about.”

“Henrik, listen,” John says, growing panicked because _this isn’t how it was supposed to go_. Henrik was supposed to believe him. He finds his voice rising in tone as he insists “I was delirious! I didn’t know what I was on about and that’s that. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“John, please,” Henrik sighs. He knew this was how it would go, but that doesn’t stop it from being intensely frustrating. The whole thing still feels hurtful, too, like John doesn’t really trust him, not the way Henrik thought he did. “What you said last night was concerning, I—”

“Stop trying to accuse me of being fucking _crazy_!”

“John, I wasn’t calling you crazy,” Henrik attempts to reassure his friend. “_It_ – psychosis – doesn’t mean you’re ‘crazy’, it means you’re struggling. You need professional help—”

“Says the great Henrik Love Hanssen, who is absolutely the right person to comment on this!” John says mockingly. “It’s not like I’ve ever had to _bathe you_ because you were depressed, neglecting yourself and couldn’t be bothered to do a damn thing about it! Or – no, wait, I suppose I hallucinated that too?!” John sees Henrik beginning to flush a bright pink. It’s working. He’s putting Henrik off, driving him away. It’s better this way, better that he makes Henrik leave than that he watches the man he loves either just abandon him of his own free will, or stick around and find himself corrupted by the destructive force that is John Gaskell.

“This isn’t the time for comparing caregiving stories, John.” Henrik knows snapping at John isn’t going to help anything, but he thinks he’s minutes away from doing so regardless, barely keeping his cool.

“My point is, you can’t judge me for not seeking professional help when it took you more than thirty years to do so yourself!”

“At least I was honest to _you_ for those thirty years!” Henrik shouts.

They can barely hear themselves or each other in the argument that ensues.

“Henrik, I don’t hallucinate, okay? I’m not psychotic, never have been! You can’t hide something you’ve never experienced—”

“That’s not what you were saying yesterday. Or are you just going to lie to me again? I know you've spent the last thirty years doing it, but that time has _passed_, John! We can't just pretend that yesterday didn't happen!”

“If I tell you what you want to hear, will you shut up?!”

“This is what I get for trying to help, is it? Being told to shut up? I told you _everything_, John! You knew every part of me there was to know! I hoped you trusted me like I trusted you, but you clearly don’t!”

“Fine, Henrik! I’ve been having hallucinations on and off for years! Is that satisfactory for you?!”

Henrik feels a rush of guilt after that, at the realisation that John seems to think he gets some sort of perverse enjoyment out of this. “John, it isn’t like that, I—”

“Just get out!” John yells.

“I just wanted to h-”

“Aren’t you listening? Get out!”

Henrik gives John a defeated-looking glance before he leaves the room, and then the house.

-

John collapses onto the sofa moments after Henrik leaves. He’s done it. He’s driven Henrik away for good, now, he’s sure of it.

He deserves this, he reminds himself. He doesn’t deserve Henrik, he never did. What he deserves is to suffer alone like he is right now.

But the fact that he’s deserving of this doesn’t change the way it makes his chest ache, and makes tears fall from his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John is avoiding a guilty Henrik, and Roxanna realises something's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is gonna have 4 chapters because I felt wrapping the aftermath of the fight up in one chapter would be ridiculous. Next chapter is the last one, I swear.
> 
> The first part of the chapter again makes reference to the events of 'given up all i can'. You still don't need to have read that one to understand this though.
> 
> Enjoy.

Henrik leaves with a sense of guilt and disappointment in himself for the argument.

He shouldn’t have snapped like that. He’d known that was only going to make things worse and lessen the likelihood of John listening to him. Yet, when John brought up an old shame and used it against him, Henrik had started seeing red and before he knew it he was lashing out right back at John.

There’s a rule, of sorts, that they don’t converse about these things outside of the moment. They don’t talk about Henrik reassuring John after his nightmares and reading to him ‘til he fell asleep, or calming him down when they got stuck in a lift together that one time and John’s claustrophobia had acted up. They don’t talk about John comforting Henrik when he worked himself up over small things. They certainly don’t talk about the night John dragged a shaking, crying, frantically apologising Henrik from that lake.

So Henrik had figured that they wouldn’t talk about that bath either. He’d felt so ashamed of himself at the time, needing John’s help for something so simple. He’d thought that he was being a burden on John, that he was undeserving of his friend's help.

(Henrik had always felt that way, ashamed of receiving help of any sort. He knows John is the same. They’re both too proud for that. It was why neither of them ever saw professionals, and why they never talked about things when they didn’t need to.)

And yet John had been so unfailingly kind, so gentle, in the way Henrik thinks only he has ever really seen the full extent of, and not spoken a word of complaint.

For John to turn that against him…

It’s not the first time he’s had an intimate moment with John thrown back in his face, of course, and he can’t pretend he isn’t guilty of doing the same back to John. The only exception to their ‘no talking about this afterwards’ rule is during fights, where they’ve both found themselves using things only the two of them know about against each other, knowing all too perfectly what to say to hit the other where it hurt. It’s a downside of knowing each other so well, Henrik supposes.

Or of John knowing him so well, at least. Henrik’s not sure he actually knows John, not anymore.

He thought he did. He thought he knew John more intimately than anybody else did. Now he’s realised John hid himself from him, too.

And now that he finally knows, John won’t even let him help.

When he gets back home, the first thing Henrik does – after finally changing out of yesterday’s clothes – is pick up a book he’d been reading recently and try to bury himself in its world. (What he really wants to do would be call John and apologise, but he doubts John would take positively to that right now.)

It doesn’t work as well as he’d hoped.

-

John needs distraction as soon as possible, so he calls Abigail Tate and tells her that he’s feeling better and he’ll be back at work tomorrow.

The minute the call is over, John begins to panic.

He has no idea how much longer he’ll have his career for. If Henrik was likely to report him as unfit before, it’s even more likely now. His former secret is now out there in the open, revealed in the form of shouting and anger rather than just admitted to. Henrik might decide to go to Ms. Tate about it out of spite, now, rather than just concern.

And if John loses his job, the media will get a hold of that sooner or later. One thing will lead to another and it won’t just be his job at Holby City Hospital going down, but his whole career.

And then he’ll have nothing. He’s lost Henrik already, that much is obvious. Now his career is probably going to be torn to shreds too.

At least the former was his own doing, and ultimately, for the better. At least Henrik will be better off without him.

And if that destroys John, what does it matter?

-

Henrik walks by John in a Keller hallway the next day. Hoping that it’s been long enough for John to cool off a bit, he looks up from some files he was checking. “It’s good to see you back at work, John. I’ve been thinking about yesterday, and—” he cuts himself off midsentence when he sees John only quicken his pace, not giving Henrik any sort of acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry,” Henrik calls after him, just loud enough that John will notice (or at least, Henrik hopes he will), but quietly enough so the whole ward won’t hear.

John doesn’t respond to that, either.

-

“John, are you sure you’re well enough yet to be here?” Roxanna asks that afternoon.

John turns around in shock. “What have you been told?”

“Nothing. Just that you’d come down with something and you didn’t feel up to coming to work these last few days.”

John breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, sorry, I thought you said something else.”

“You seem a bit… distracted. I thought you might not be totally better yet.”

“No, no, I’m fine, Rox,” John insists. “I’m feeling much better now.”

“Okay, well, if you’re sure,” Roxanna replies. “You’ve just – and I know you’re going to try to insult me for this, leave it – been kind of bitchy with me today. You know, more than usual.”

“Didn’t really sleep last night,” John says. It’s not a lie; he’d only gotten two hours.

“I also saw Henrik trying to talk to you this morning. Didn’t hear what he said, but he sounded worried. And normally you don’t pass up any opportunity to be around him.”

“I was busy. You know, a few days of paperwork surrounding the trial to catch up with. I didn’t have the time to talk to him. It wasn’t that important, anyway.”

Roxanna nods. John’s pretty sure he hasn’t actually convinced her. He hopes he’s wrong.

He’s been trying his hardest to throw himself into the work, but it hasn’t really been working. He’s run into Henrik a few times today, and every time, Henrik’s seemed very upset and remorseful. John finds it excruciatingly hard to watch, but he knows that he has to just let it be. Henrik will come to understand why he should stay away from John, and then it’ll all be okay. Even if John loses his career – he deserves it.

Later on, John’s pen runs out of ink. He remembers he has a spare one that he’d left in the staff room before his absence, so he heads there.

He realises, once he opens the door, that Henrik is in the room already, sitting at the table, tapping his fingers upon it.

He tries to ignore Henrik, painful as it feels. Henrik, however, glances up at John as soon as he walks in.

“I could’ve sworn I had a spare pen in here,” John says, simply, to make it clear that he didn’t come here for Henrik. He searches the counter where he left the pen last time he was here.

“Was it this one, by any chance?” Henrik asks, picking up a pen from the table and holding it out in John’s direction.

“How did it end up there?” John sighs.

“Someone moved it, presumably. I don’t think pens tend to run off on their own.”

John refuses to even chuckle at Henrik’s attempt to lighten the mood. He can’t let himself get too close again.

Instead, he just reaches out to take the pen.

And then he inadvertently brushes his hand against Henrik’s.

Henrik jolts back, almost as if he’d just been burned, before John even has the chance to pull away.

John thinks he should be happy at any sign of Henrik rejecting him. He deserves it. But instead, he just feels hurt.

-

Henrik sits at the staff room table, trying to figure out if he’s ruined things with John for good now.

This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve fought and John’s subsequently shut him out, but something about this feels different. More final.

He hears the door open and someone walks in. He glances over to see that it’s John, who walks by, not speaking to him.

“I could’ve sworn I had a spare pen in here,” John says as he looks over the counter.

Henrik thinks maybe trying to help John out with this would do some good. It’d be a start, at least. And there’s a pen right there on the table…

He lifts the pen up and raises it out to John. “Was it this, by any chance?” he asks, hoping he sounds more sure of himself than he feels at this moment.

“How did it end up there?” John asks in a frustrated tone. Henrik’s uncertain if it’s whoever moved the pen that John’s angry at, or him.

He hopes it’s the former.

“Someone moved it, presumably,” he tries to joke, “I don’t think pens tend to run off on their own.”

John doesn’t react, just reaching out to take the pen.

Then Henrik feels John’s hand against his all of a sudden. The almost-electric sensation that runs through him at the contact is too much to handle – on a better day John’s touch might be pleasant, but not here, not right now. Right now, it’s just too much to take.

He pulls back. John gives him a look - one that Henrik wouldn't even know where to begin interpreting - then takes the pen, hurriedly but without touching Henrik this time, and leaves the room.

-

Roxanna catches Henrik in the car park after their shift is over.

“So what the hell happened between you and your girlfriend?”

“My girlfriend? Roxanna, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“John. I’m talking about John.”

“We’re not a couple. I don’t think.”

“You ‘don’t thi-’” Roxanna begins in confusion, before cutting herself off. “Oh, nevermind. It doesn’t matter. You’ve both been ‘off’ all day, and John seems to be avoiding you. What happened, Henrik?”

“We, uh…” Henrik doesn’t even know where to begin explaining, especially without saying things he doesn’t feel comfortable telling Roxanna. “We had a bit of an argument. John told me something while he was ill. Something that he later seemed to regret telling me.”

“What was it?”

“He’d probably kill us both if I told you,” Henrik forces a chuckle. Roxanna laughs too, equally as awkwardly. “It was something very personal. He tried to deny it, and I felt hurt because he’d been hiding it even from me for so long. It escalated and ended in him yelling at me to leave him alone, so I did. I tried to apologise to him, this morning, and he just ignored me.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I hope so.”

“He always does eventually,” Roxanna says reassuringly, “especially when it comes to you. Just watch, he’ll be grovelling at your feet in a few days.”

“Perhaps I should be the one grovelling at his feet.”

“If there’s one thing I know about relationships, it’s that it takes two to tango.”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“I’ve known you both for thirty years. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I’ve heard how you talk to and about each other. I know you both have keys to each other’s houses. I have literally witnessed you flirting with each other.”

“I amend my statement. We might be in a relationship. I don’t know. I don’t think John knows either.”

“As I was saying – you should both apologise. You’ve tried, which is good, though it would probably help if you apologised in private rather than here.” (Roxanna then mutters something under her breath that sounds vaguely like “and discuss your relationship status while you’re at it.”)

Henrik nods. “Yes, that would probably be best.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik takes Roxanna's advice and goes to talk to John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the last chapter. It may be a bit cheesy and fluffy towards the end and in the flashback (you'll see what I mean), but I don't even care.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me on this impulsive journey of a fic that I swore was going to be a oneshot, and I hope you all enjoy the chapter. :D

Henrik turns up at John’s door the next day with nervousness tightening his chest.

This could result in him and John talking things over. But it’s equally – and perhaps even more likely – that it will result in the final blow to their relationship, whatever that is.

Still, though, he knows he needs to do this. So he knocks on the door, hoping not to have to use the keys because that would just be too much like intruding when he doubts John even wants to see him.

He waits, and he waits. Finally, he gives in, and unlocks the door himself. He walks into the house, through the kitchen and the living room, and eventually upstairs.

He knocks on the door to John’s bedroom – he wouldn’t let himself in here, that’s where he draws the line – and calls out “John? I think we need to talk.”

-

John hears a knock on the door. There’s only a few people it could be, he knows, and he’s quite certain he knows which one it is.

When he hears the door unlock, he realises he was right.

He stays quiet and doesn’t leave the room, in the hope Henrik will assume he’s out and leave, but when he hears someone coming up the stairs, he knows he’s not getting his wish.

There’s a light knock on the bedroom door. John wonders why Henrik is still being so careful about everything even now.

“John?” Henrik’s voice says. “I think we need to talk.”

John gets up from his chair, walks over to the bedroom door and opens it. Henrik is indeed standing there, hands in his pockets. John thinks he sees a regretful look in his friend’s eyes, and that only makes him feel even worse.

“About what?” John questions, despite knowing the answer.

“You know what I mean. What happened, what you said— what we _both_ said.”

“Ah, yes, that,” John affirms awkwardly.

“I’m here to apologise. For saying the things I did, and for getting, perhaps, a bit… overinvolved in the situation. It wasn’t any of my business.”

John takes a seat on his bed and gestures for Henrik to take the chair. “You’re not the one who needs to apologise,” he begins, feeling guilty that he’s seemingly made Henrik think _he_ was the problem, when he wasn’t. The whole situation is entirely John’s fault. “I’m the one who said things I shouldn’t have. You know I didn’t… I shouldn’t have used it against you.”

-

Oh. So it wasn’t Henrik that John was angry with, then. It was himself.

Of course it was. Henrik thinks he should’ve figured this out sooner rather than jumping to taking it personally.

He’s clearly still got more left to learn about John than he thought, but one thing he knows for certain by now is that John doesn’t like himself at all, never has. It seems so obvious, now, that John would take the argument as meaning he was a bad person.

Henrik supposes that, ironically, he had too much self-loathing of his own to realise John might not think him at fault.

“Okay, yes, John, I can’t truthfully say that the things you said didn’t hurt me,” he begins. “But I’ve done the same, remember. And I lashed out right back at you for it this time. And before that, I took advantage of your illness to get you to talk about things… I wanted to help, but I took it too far, and I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault that I hate showing weakness, Henrik.”

“For whatever it’s worth, I don’t think you’re weak.”

“I think I am,” John admits quietly, words rushed as if he didn’t want anybody to understand them. “I’m weak and I’m fucked up and I’m crazy and I ruin things.”

“You’re not any of those things, John. You’ve done so much good for so many people. Like Lazlo. Like Mara. Like so many of your patients.” Henrik pauses, unsure if he really wants to say what he's thinking, before he goes through with it by adding “Or like me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, John.”

John doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, contemplating the words. Henrik’s about to speak again when John finally mutters a “s’ppose so.”

“You’re a good person, John. Please try not to forget that.”

“Easier said than done.”

Henrik nods. “I know.”

“I’m sorry too,” John says after a brief break in conversation. “I didn’t mean any of it, but it still hurt you.”

“You’re forgiven,” Henrik says, extending an arm out to John. John is quick to accept, and clings on to Henrik’s hand like he’ll never let go. (Henrik’s not sure John ever would, if he didn’t have to. He also thinks he would be more than okay with that.)

“As are you.”

They sit like that for a while, the quiet between them finally feeling like peace again rather than a source of anxiety and torment.

“I’ve got something else I wanted to talk about,” Henrik starts, tentatively. “After the last few weeks…”

-

A little more than six weeks prior, Henrik had mentioned something about a Pride event of some sort (John hadn’t paid much attention to what it actually was) that was meant to be happening soon.

He’d raised the subject with John, admitting that he might consider going to the event, saying that after years of denial and confusion, he’d recently realised that he was bisexual thanks to his undeniable interest in one particular man.

John then went on to confess that he was gay, that he’d known he was for years. Henrik had smiled and said he’d kind of figured it out after noticing that John still hadn’t married or had any long-term relationships with women even now that he was in his 50s (although in reality, that was far from the first thing to tip Henrik off) and made some remark about him being a ‘confirmed bachelor’.

John somehow fell in love even more at that moment.

Henrik realised John didn’t seem to notice the underlying meaning to his words, or perhaps was wilfully ignorant to it out of disbelief, so he followed it up in private later, after work, spelling it out that the ‘one particular man’ was John.

John had been overjoyed, shocked to the point he briefly completely froze while trying to process the idea that Henrik loved him back… and one thing had led to another and they’d ended up spending the night together at Henrik’s house.

They’d shared a kiss that night, almost high on emotion, and it had, for the both of them, been well worth the thirty year wait, even though they didn’t go any further. They didn’t need to, not yet. This was enough.

-

After that, things haven’t been quite so clear-cut. They’ve spent a few more nights together, sometimes going out to see a documentary at the cinema, or to visit a nearby restaurant, or just to walk around the city hand-in-hand, and they’ve exchanged house keys, but they haven’t repeated that kiss or done anything more. They haven’t said that they’re together, in case they aren’t, both afraid the other person had just gotten the wrong impression and that they weren’t technically a couple yet.

Since talking to Roxanna yesterday, though, Henrik has realised that maybe it would be best to discuss it after all.

“Roxanna thinks we’re together,” he begins, “together in the romantic sense. And I don’t think she’s the only one who thinks it, given the whispers I’ve heard from some other members of staff recently.”

“And do you… mind that?” John asks nervously.

“No,” Henrik shakes his head. “I don’t. Do you?”

“Certainly not.”

“Do you think they’re correct?”

John shrugs. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Henrik confesses, “but I think I’d like them to be.”

“I think I would, too.”

“Glad that’s settled then,” Henrik says, offering John a smile. He rises from the chair and sits down next to John on the bed.

They spend the next few moments in silence together. John eventually finds himself breaking that silence. “By the way, I – I’ll think about it. Seeking help for my… issues. But if it doesn’t work out – please try not to hold it against me.”

Henrik tightens his grip on John’s hand, and takes hold of his free one as well. “Trust me, John: I won’t.”


End file.
